


Christmas Wouldn't Be Christmas (Without You)

by writeranthea



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Awkward Flirting, Christmas Fluff, Cute Kids, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, Past Relationship(s), Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea
Summary: “It’s his first Christmas since Luis left him.” Gerard’s voice dropped so low that there wasn’t a chance of Leo hearing him from the kitchen, “Not to mention that it’s Thiago’s first Christmas at that, too. We couldn’t just have left him all alone in Barcelona, Cris.”Given everything that happened between them over the years, Cristiano didn’t really think that spending the holiday with Leo would change anything about the terms they were on or the way he actually felt about the Argentine. It shouldn’t take him long to realise that certain feelings couldn’t be ignored and denied forever, no matter how hard he would try.
Relationships: Gerard Piqué/Sergio Ramos, Lionel Messi/Cristiano Ronaldo, Neymar/James Rodríguez
Comments: 15
Kudos: 46





	Christmas Wouldn't Be Christmas (Without You)

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to everyone who's celebrating! :-)<3 I have to admit that the idea for this story is a rather self-indulgent one. I first decided to write this when I realised that I'll be forced to spend the holiday alone (as I can't fly to the country that my family lives in) and thus wanted to cheer myself up, maybe even bring some real Christmas vibes into my life... Also, I'm already working on the next Perfect Paradise chapter so it should be up soon-ish :-)
> 
> The setting is almost the same as in my other stories: Junior is younger for the sake of the plot and Cristiano and James never left Madrid just like Neymar stayed in Barcelona.
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> A/N: I posted this story on AO3. If you see it on any other website or platform, please consider that I did not consent to it.

_“Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without you_  
_It wouldn't be merry 'cause I'd be so blue_  
_There'd still be sleigh bells ringing and Tony Bennett singing_  
_Songs of joy and peace and love_  
_But oh the holy night_  
_Would be a lonely night_  
_And you'd be all I'm thinking of.”_

Cristiano drew in a deep breath, kept it in his lungs for a moment and let it out with an inaudible sigh, “You can play later nino, we really need to get going in a few minutes.”

“Nooo!” He watched his two-year-old son run around the living room in random circles, giggling as if it was the most amusing thing to run oneself dizzy, before he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew that he couldn’t possibly snap at his toddler son even if he happened to have a less than okay day and was struggling to keep his mood up with a knee brace firmly wrapped around his left leg, but he loved Christmas and he wasn’t about to ruin Junior’s Christmas either. “Nononono,” his son giggled, dashing around the considerably tall Christmas tree, and Cristiano’s father instincts kicked in when Junior set out to run past him and the couch again.

“ _Now_ I got you.”

Still giggling, the two-year-old squeaked and kicked his little legs into the air as Cristiano pulled him up to sit on his lap after he had caught him around the waist. “Nooo!” The Portuguese smiled, his knee might’ve been acting up since his last workout the day before, but getting to hear his son laugh like there wasn’t a worry in the world always made him feel better and so grateful to have him. “No Pai, _nooo!_ ”

“ _Yes_ ,” he retorted with a laugh, pressing a kiss into the mess of Junior’s curls. “We don’t want to be late, do we, nino? No I don’t think we want that, hm?” As he then had his two-year-old son in a somewhat secured hold on his lap, Cristiano hurried to put him his shoes on. If Junior would keep this amount of energy up, Cristiano’s hopes of his son crashing around his usual bedtime in vain. “No, we don’t want to be late. Uncle Ser is waiting for us with Uncle Geri and Sasha and Alejandro... Uncle James and Uncle Ney will be there too, with Samuel...” He fastened the velcro fasteners of Junior’s shoes.

It would be the fourth consecutive year that they would all celebrate Christmas together. They had first come together when it had been time for Alejandro’s first Christmas and had simply come together every year after that without questioning it. It hadn’t been watch Cristiano had expected, but since they had gotten their kids and had thus put the last of their youthful behaviour aside, they had grown closer than any of them could’ve explained to their childless friends, teammates and families. Their children were watched by the same childminder, they took turns babysitting for each other even if it mostly just happened to be Cristiano who’d watch his friends’ children, because as opposed to them he hadn’t really gone out since the day that he had taken Junior home with him. Anniversary dinners, Valentine’s Day dates... it wasn’t really Cristiano’s world anymore then that he had his son.

Sergio and Gerard would also claim every other Friday for themselves, would go out for dinner and rent a hotel room for what they would call a _maintenance of their relationship_ while James and Neymar would give Samuel to Cristiano once in a while, but it had only happened a handful of times that he had given Junior to either of them and it had always been due to club duties. When he put his son down again, Junior didn’t resume to run around the living room and instead whined and made grabby hands at him, wordlessy demanding to be picked up again, and Cristiano came after that demand when he stood up from the couch with a groan he only barely managed to suppress. “Okay meu amor,” he said, settling the toddler on his hip. “Let’s go, yeah?”

Junior babbled along rather happily while Cristiano left the living room for the entrance area, where he sat his son down onto the small children’s bench so that he could put him his jacket on before he would finish to dress himself. He smiled at the way that Junior kicked his legs into the air when he gently guided his small arms through the sleeves of the jacket and tapped the underside of his chin, “Chin up,” to ensure that he wouldn’t hurt him when he’d close the zipper. “Where did you leave Mr. Teddy, meu amor?” Junior’s wide eyes turned up towards him, making him laugh. “Go and get him, come on.”

The two-year-old didn’t need to be told twice before he ran off with a gasp and a squeal of “Teddy!” and if Sergio would’ve asked him, Cristiano wouldn’t have hesitated to let him know that he still hasn’t quite forgiven him for giving Junior’s teddy such a ridiculous name that had actually stuck. He just shouldered his son’s diaper bag when Junior came running back from the living room, his cheeks tinted pink and holding said teddy by a leg, “Da!”

“Very good meu amor.” Cristiano silently thanked himself for having brought the presents over to the Piqué-Ramos house earlier, considering that he, with Junior, the diaper back and his own necessities, didn’t have a hand free, and he rewarded his son with a kiss onto one chubby cheek for staying perfectly still when Cristiano strapped him into his car seat. The curse that escaped him as his knee brace got caught on the steering wheel was louder than he wanted it to with his two-year-old son in the car with him. “Are you excited?” he asked rather abruptly, so as if starting a conversation was the only thing that kept him from losing his cool.

Through the rearview mirror, he watched Junior nod and hug his teddy close, “Uh-huh,” and he smiled at the sight as he started the engine of the Porsche and reversed it off the driveway, reminding himself that he _was_ excited for Christmas. The drive to Sergio’s and Gerard’s house was a short one that he easily could’ve walked instead if it wouldn’t have been for both his son and his injured knee, and it was one that he was actually making the third time on that Thursday because he had spend the morning and early afternoon helping his friends with the preparations of their Christmas celebration before he had picked Junior up from his mother’s house.

The radio had been turned on when he had started the engine, but at the song that the radio station had played, Cristiano had immediately turned it off. It could’ve been a nice song to listen to if it wouldn’t have been a rather harsh reminder that it had still been only Junior and him at the end of the day, just like it had been only the two of them against the rest of the world for the last two years. Who was he to lie, he knew that he could easily have anyone if he’d show them a smirk and flash them with his CR7 attitude that he was known for, but instead of making it easier, it made it even harder for him because he wanted someone that he could love and who would love him, someone who he could trust unconditionally and build a life with, someone who Junior could form a close bond with, not a person who would end up to be nothing more than a pretty piece of arm candy and want him to show them off to the broad public. Cristiano had more than enough of those in his past relationships. With Junior in his life, he had no aspirations to mess around anymore. He wanted to settle down with the right person.

There was a small voice in the back of his mind, popping up to remind him that he already knew someone who _could_ be his right person if he’d only stop to mess around and have the heart to make a first daring step, but Cristiano shook his head as if to physically get rid of that thought. He didn’t really like to think about the somewhat confusing... _interest_ he had failed to get rid of for years on end. Sergio would try to argue that he wasn’t just interested but had a proper crush instead, something that Cristiano had always vehemently denied. There was no way that he could have a crush on the very person that was supposed to be his arch-rival and who ha hadn’t even gotten to be on a first name basis with after all those years in Spain.

“Sese! _Seeeseee!_ ”

Before he could’ve grown confused about how on earth his two-year-old son had managed to distinguish his godfather’s house from all the others they had driven past when he caught a sight of Sergio, who apparently just gotten back home from walking his dogs. Cristiano rolled the window down and let the car roll up to where the Spaniard was standing on the sidewalk and waving at Junior with his free hand. “Hi Junior, I’m so excited to see you!” Sergio ducked down to grin at Junior, who squealed and tried to climb out of his car seat.

Cristiano snorted, “We’re not late, are we? Junior wasn’t very cooperative when it was time for him to get dressed. Não é isso, seu pequeno pirralho?”

“You’re never late,” Sergio said with a laugh, waving at his young godson once more before he dropped his hand again to give one of the German Shepherds a stroke down the neck after it had nudged its snout against his leg. “For Alejo maybe, but he’s always asking about when you’ll be back.”

At the mention of his own four-year-old godson Cristiano’s smile widened and he gave a thumbs-up, rolling the window back up to steer the Porsche onto the driveway and park it next to the Mercedes which he knew belonged to James. Junior was properly squirming by then, whining and trying to push himself out of the car sear he was strapped in with all the strength that his short arms gave him because he was no longer able to see Sergio; Cristiano tried to calm him down by promising to him that he’d be able to see his uncle in a short moment, but by the time that he turned the engine off and pulled the key out of the ignition, there were tears rolling down Junior’s chubby cheeks. “Oh nino don’t cry...”

“Se-ese.”

Getting out of the car as quickly as his knee allowed him to, Cristiano hurried to round it and unfasten the straps of the car seat. “There’s no need to cry,” he whispered, getting his sniffling son into his arms and Junior dropped his head onto Cristiano’s shoulder, sniffling once more as if his little heard had just been broken.

“Niño why are you crying? Your Uncle Ser is right here, I didn’t go anywhere!”

“Sese!”

The two-year-old’s head shot up so quickly that it almost hit against his father’s chin and his tears disappeared as if they hadn’t even been there to begin with, his teary little sniffles and whimpers replaced with a giggle and a wide smile as he made grabby hands at his godfather. He squealed when Cristiano handed him over to Sergio. “There we are, niño.” The Spaniard kissed Junior’s temple, “Let’s go and get inside, yeah? Sasha _really_ wants to play with you.”

“Shasha?”

Sergio gave a well-placed gasp and blew raspberries onto the nearest one of the toddler’s cheeks, making him squeal with laughter, “Yes, Sasha!”

While Cristiano got Junior’s diaper back out of the trunk of the Porsche, Sergio had to use his elbow to press the doorbell as he had his dogs’ leashes gathered in one hand and thus couldn’t use his keys. The Portuguese pressed his lips together to keep himself from laughing out at the look that Gerard gave his husband after he had opened the door for him and had stepped aside to let them all in. “Okay so why did you take your keys with you aga-”

Sergio muffled Gerard’s obviously bantering complaint with a kiss, “Because this little man right here,” and heaved Junior a bit higher onto his hip, “wanted to be close to his favourite uncle ever. Isn’t that right, niño?”

“Yes,” Cristiano’s son giggled, clapping his hands together twice. “Yes!”

Gerard rolled his eyes with the same playful manner as he had made his complaint and bend down to unclip the leashes from the dogs’ collars, smiling up at Cristiano as he did so. “Hey, I’m glad you’re back. I think it’ll definitely be a bit more chaotic this year with _three_ hyperactive toddlers in the house.” He pulled Cristiano into a welcome hug, which the Portuguese happily accepted.

If someone would’ve told him, just a few years ago, that Piqué would end up being one of his closest friends, Cristiano would’ve thrown something at their head for the sheer audacity of such a statement - but there they were, and he didn’t want it any other way. “I’m sure that it won’t be too bad,” he laughed, even if he too doubted that the kids wouldn’t dash around until they would just fall asleep somewhere. Cristiano didn’t mention how he had begun to relax the second that he had entered the house. It was decorated so perfectly and with such an eye for details that it could’ve acted as a setting for one of these horribly kitschy Christmas movies he liked as much as he hated them. There was decor hung up on the walls and scattered over the side tables and commodes which lined the spacious entrance area and from the speakers that had been hung up around the lower floor, classical Christmas music filled out the space.

“Boys, Uncle Cris is here! Come and say hello to him!”

“ _Criiis!_ ”

Minding his knee, Cristiano sat down onto the floor instead of crouching down like he usually would’ve done it when four-year-old Alejandro came running from the living room, followed by his two-year-old brother Sasha and Neymar’s and James’ one-year-old son Samuel, latter who only barely managed to keep himself on his chubby and unsteady legs. The laugh Cristiano let out was a loud one and a few seconds later, he found himself hugged by all three kids. He pulled Samuel to sit on his uninjured leg, though, as Alejandro almost would’ve pushed the youngest boy over as he tried to get into the best position to throw his arms around Cristiano’s neck. “How are you,” Cristiano asked even though he knew that only the four-year-old could actually answer, kissing each of them atop the head.

“Goood,” Alejandro drawled out. “Cris can you play football with me? I can go and get my ball right now!”

“No,” Gerard said from where he stood a few meters away, just watching the scene. “Papá and I told you that there won’t be any football today, nadó.”

Alejandro huffed, but was soon beaming at Cristiano again, “We can play Lego then! Cris can you play Lego with me?”

“Of course nino, I’ll play Lego with you,” Cristiano answered with a smile. He realised that he should’ve thought twice about sitting down like that when tried to stand up on his own after Alejandro and Sasha had run off to the living room again where Sergio and Junior had since gone, but his knee protested too much and Gerard needed to come to his help. “Thank you,” he muttered, changing the hold he had on little Samuel to hide that he was a bit flustered but thankfully Gerard didn’t mention it and he gave Neymar’s and James’ son a kiss to one chubby cheek before he put the squirming toddler down as well, watching how Samuel hurried after the other two boys. “I can see what you meant.”

“It’ll be a long evening.” Gerard huffed a laugh, “Ser thought it was a good idea to put them _all_ of them down for a second nap, including Alejo. It’ll be a proper mess, I can tell you that.”

“Hey I heard that,” Sergio called from the living room.

The Catalan merely rolled his eyes. “You can either go and play with them or help us in the kitchen, dinner is as good as ready but Ney and Leo decided to make another batch of cookies after the boys,” Gerard dropped his voice for a second, “including Ser, got into them earlier.”

“Messi is here?!”

Cristiano’s voice thankfully hadn’t been raised above a whisper as the disbelieving question had escaped him and he only realised that he had caught Gerard by the elbow when his friend gave him a rather pointed look, “Do you have a problem with that? If yes, you can take your things and leave because Leo is staying.”

He opened and closed his mouth once without bringing a single word out, pulling his hand away from Gerard’s arm as if he had been burned. He didn’t know how he should’ve explained his predicament to his friend who also happened to be Leo’s best friend. “It’s okay I just... I didn’t know that he’d be staying with us.” While they had all grown closer due to their kids, Leo hadn’t ever lost his place as Gerard’s and Neymar’s best friend. Whether it had been through fate or sheer luck Cristiano didn’t know, but Leo and him hadn’t crossed paths all that often before. In private, that was. He let out a sigh, and the creases on Gerard’s face softened considerably.

“It’s his first Christmas since Luis left him.” His friend’s voice dropped so low that there wasn’t a chance of Leo hearing him from the kitchen, “Not to mention that it’s _Thiago’s_ first Christmas at that, too. We couldn’t just have left him all alone in Barcelona, Cris.” Gerard spoke to him as if he was mad, but anger wasn’t what was going through Cristiano’s mind. Even if he wouldn’t have been so close with Gerard and Neymar, there wouldn’t have been a chance for him to miss the drama that surrounded Leo a couple of months ago.

Without letting his then boyfriend, or anyone else, know, Luis had arranged his transfer to Atlético and had left Leo and Thiago behind in Barcelona as if they hadn’t ever mattered to him to begin with. What made it all worse, at least in Cristiano’s eyes, was the fact that Thiago hadn’t even been a month old yet when it all happened. He needed to swallow hard at the appearance of the same nagging thought from before. He knew that he’d need to keep himself in check for the rest of the evening. “I’m not mad,” he replied after a short pause, nodding and mustering a smile. “He has every right to be here, what Suárez did was absolutely...”

At the way that Gerard patted his back, he merely rolled his eyes. “You still surprise me from time to time, Cris.”

Cristiano let out a pretended sound of offendment, “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh you know, you know...”

“I do _not!_ ”

“Well that’s hardly my problem then, is it,” Gerard chirped, winking at the Portuguese from over his shoulder before he disappeared into the kitchen and out of sight, leaving Cristiano behind who, from one second to another, suddenly wasn’t so sure about what he was supposed to do. If Messi... if _Leo_ and him really were about to celebrate Christmas together, it would only be the best for them to finally get to that first name basis Cristiano had thought about for a few years, but in contradiction to his own thinking, he hurried right past the kitchen and decided to join Sergio and the kids in the living room instead.

Said Spaniard was sitting on the floor in a cross-legged position and stacking up blocks with Sasha and Junior, holding Samuel in his lap, who was nibbling on a cookie, while Alejandro was sorting through the Lego he must’ve put out earlier. The four-year-old perked up when he spotted Cristiano and bounced up and down where he had claimed his place next to the tall Christmas tree the adults had all put up and decorated together, and Cristiano grabbed one of the decorative pillows from the couch as he walked past it so that he would be able to sit down a bit more comfortably than he had been sitting in the vestibule a few minutes ago. He ruffled through his young godson’s hair once he had sat down with only a minor grunt of pain and had put the pillow under his injured knee. “What are we building this time, hm? The police station again?”

“Nooo I don’t know,” Alejandro giggled, showing off a toothy grin to Cristiano, who laughed and shock his head.

Kids could be exhausting sometimes, but they were more than worth it. The Portuguese gathered a few random Lego blocks that were closest to him and showed them to the boy, “Just tell me where you want me to put them, docinho.”

“Hmmm.” The four-year-old wrinkled his nose in an almost perfect imitation of how Sergio did it, eventually pointing at what Cristiano guesses was the foundation of a house Alejandro had begun to build before he came over, “There!”

“Okay nino, I’ll put them there...”

The soft, Christmas themes classical music that was filling out the spacious living room really helped Cristiano to emerge into the game that Alejandro initiated soon after he had put the first few stones into the place the boy wanted him to instead of the slight throbbing of his propped-up leg, and since his focus had been on nothing but the Lego game he was honestly startled when the relatively quiet of the room was disturbed by a commotion coming from behind him.

He almost hurt his neck due to the way that his head snapped around to see what was going on. It were just Neymar, James and Gerard carring plates and glasses and other necessities they would need to lay the table in the adjoined dining room, or so Cristiano thought at first, but when he caught sight of a forth, smaller person behind the group of three, his head snapped back around in a split of a second and for no real reason other than the fact that he had felt his heart skip a beat. Cristiano forced himself to concentrate back on Alejandro and their game, but failed to not listen to the chattering and laughter that could be heard from nearby. _Jesus Christ_ , he thought rather humourlessly, pressing his lips together. _Aren’t you a mess today._ He knew that there couldn’t have been fewer reason as for why he should be so ridiculously nervous.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t come face to face with Leo countless of times before, with Madrid as well as his national team, and not to mention occasions like the Piqué-Ramos wedding and Samuel’s christening, but he was certain that it hadn’t ever bothered him to quite this extend. Or so he tried to tell himself, even though he knew that it was a blatant lie. He had since lost count of how many times he had wished that he could’ve just asked Leo if they could bury the hatchet and to get that dinner he had mentioned in an interview a couple of years ago. As opposed to popular belief he wasn’t always as confident and assertive as he happened to be whenever he was on the pitch, and especially not when his mind was about to dismantle itself because he felt like he was overcome by what he had successfully managed to hold back for years as he was sitting there on the floor playing Lego with Alejandro. By what just couldn’t be.

“Nonono Cris you’re doing it wrong!”

It was the four-year-old’s squeak that roughly pulled Cristiano back into the there and then and he blushed against his own will when he realised that he had actually put the last few stones up the wrong way round, “Oh yes of couse, I’m sorry nino.”

Gerard’s and Sergio’s son patted his arm as if to reassure him, “It’s okay.”

“So you’re just going to sit around and let us do all the work? Wow, what a _man_ my husband is! Incredible, truly incredible.”

The giggling that followed Gerard’s complaint showed that no one, including the Catalan, was taking it all that seriously. “Well, _my beloved husband_ , someone has to watch the kids,” Sergio retorted, so as if stacking blocks up with two two-year-olds required the greatest effort. “Given that they got into the cookies before...”

Cristiano turned around when Gerard slapped the back of Sergio’s head. Not very hard, of course, but it made the older man pout and rub at the spot that had been hit. “I put the boxes _on top_ of the cupboard on purpose, Sergio. Please tell me how Alejo, or how _Sasha_ got them from there, hm? I know that it was you, there’s no need for you to lie about it in front of everyone.”

“Okay but why should I help when Cris over here gets to sit around and play Lego?”

All of the adults in the room failed to hide a snort, Sergio sounded so serious about the point he had made that Cristiano could’ve taken him serious if he wouldn’t have know him for so long. “Because he’s injured and Alejo really wants to be with him.” Gerard grabbed Sergio by the wrist, “Now get up, the kids can play on their own and you complained that you’re _oh so hungry_ before you walked the dogs. Or did you eat more cookies? Jesus, you’re worse than all of the kids together.” Sergio allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and walked out of the room, but when he thought they were out of sight - which they weren’t, he brought a hand up, cupped the back of Gerard’s head and pulled it down to whisper something into the younger man’s ear that made him blush so much that Cristiano was able to see it from the distance.

He only just resisted the urge to snort when Sergio squeezed Gerard’s backside before he gave it a smack, eliciting a squeal from the younger man who hurried to put some space between him and his husband. If those two would ever get past the initial _oh my God I’m so in love with my husband_ phase of a marriage, it would be a wonder and Cristiano never would’ve admitted that he was a bit jealous of what they have and he lacked. That Neymar and James left the living room and followed after Gerard and Sergio, he, on the other hand, didn’t pay attention to. He couldn’t have, even if he would’ve wanted to. His gaze was glued to the small, almost curled-up form on the couch. It was Leo, who had since sat down in the corner of the spacious couch of which the dogs claimed the most of.

The Argentine looked even smaller than he usually did, with his knees pulled up, his feet firmly planted on the cushion and his four-month-old son cradled securely in his left arm while he gave him his bottle. Cristiano had never fully believed the pecho frío theory which the media loved to tear the younger man up over, even if they still happened to be nothing more than rivals or enemies. Who knew at that point, it’s not as if they had talked about which term was the fitting one for them. He had seen Leo take care of Sasha, who’s godfather Leo was, had heard a lot of stories from Gerard and Neymar and had, of course, seen countless of photos, and as he was sitting there on the floor and watched his arch-rival feed his son, he wondered whether Leo even wanted to be more friendly with him or if he deliberately kept his distance. Cristiano’s chest felt strangely tight, though whether it was due to the question that had flashed through his mind or the way that Leo dangled a finger over little Thiago’s face and smiled when one of the baby’s hands came up to close around it, he didn’t know.

He didn’t even dare to blink when Leo leaned down to kiss Thiago’s forehead and whispered something that was only meant for his son and it was once again Alejandro who stopped Cristiano’s mind from working itself into overdrive. Leo didn’t seem as if he had noticed him at all and he was rather glad when he could hear the others come back, as he could’ve continued to watch the younger man being the epitome of gentleness for God knew how long.

His godson whimpered and tugged at the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention, pointing at a partially collapsed wall of the house they had been building before Cristiano had lost himself in his thoughts and at the sight of the man who was still nothing more than a vague acquaintance to him. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to do it,” the four-year-old whimpered, his small voice barely raised above an audible whisper and his hand not letting go of Cristiano’s sleeve and the Portuguese smiled, reaching out to stroke Alejandro’s cheek. He could’ve sworn that those big brown eyes looked right into his soul.

“It’s nothing bad nino, we’ll just build it again and _a lot_ more stable, okay?” Gerard’s and Sergio’s son nodded, but stood up from where he was sitting opposite of Cristiano to sit between his godfather’s legs instead, apparently craving his presence more than Cristiano had thought he did. Cristiano smiled, to himself as there was no one to see it, kissed the top of Alejandro’s head and put an arm around the boy, setting out to rebuild the Lego construction with one hand. He knew well enough that he shouldn’t have done it and that he would’ve snapped at anyone who would’ve watched his every move like he was watching Leo’s in that moment, but he simply needed to turn around when he caught a small mewling sound from behind him.

It hadn’t come from either Junior, Sasha or Samuel, who were still playing with the soft foam blocks where Sergio had left them alone, but from Thiago, who seemed to have just finished his bottle as Leo put the empty bottle down onto the coffee table before he leaned back into the couch and put his son onto his chest, moving his hand over the baby’s back in gentle circles. For the second time within a few mere minutes, Cristiano was flashed by how _gentle_ Leo was. From the way that he leaned his cheek against Thiago’s head to how he never lost his smile as he hummed with his eyes closed, successfully calming his son down in the matter of seconds and Cristiano wondered if there even was something that Leo didn’t happen to be perfect at. It was a question that he never would’ve voiced out, of course, as if would mean that he’d have to admit his... _interest_ to himself just as much as to the other man.

“Hey you.” Gerard poked his head into the living to check on the playing toddlers as much as on Leo. At the sight of the sleeping baby in his best friend’s arms, the Catalan dropped his voice immediately, “Dinner should be ready in a few minutes, can you take the boys to wash their hands?”

Leo nodded at Gerard, changed the hold he had on his sleeping son before he stood up from the couch and moved over to the Maxi Cosi stroller that stood by the window front at the far wall of the living room, carefully putting Thiago into it. Cristiano decided that he liked to see Leo as a father, handling a small baby even more than he liked to see him on the pitch, controlling the ball like not even Cristiano himself could.

The Argentine let out a laugh as he swiftly picked Samuel off the floor to balance him on his hip, “You ready to go and get cleaned up, niño?” The one-year-old giggled and patted both of his hands against Leo’s cheeks, which Leo allowed him to do as he called out Sasha’s name, holding out his free hand towards the two-year-old, who scrambled to get to his feet and dash over to his godfather, “You two are probably hungry, hm?” Samuel babbled something that Cristiano couldn’t hear, but Leo laughed and kissed the boy’s chubby cheek, “Oh I know niño, I know. Cookies aren’t that good to eat if you’re _really_ hungry, are they?” James’ and Neymar’s son shook his head, for which he was rewarded with another kiss onto his other cheek.

Cristiano’s heart ached at the small, confused sound Junior let out when he must’ve realised that Sasha wouldn’t be coming back to play with him and the Portuguese tried, but failed, to come up with something to say when his son climbed onto his feet and set out to toddle after Sasha and Leo. As ridiculous as it was, his heart did somersault when Leo didn’t ignore the whimpers coming from behind him and turned around. He didn’t look at him, just at his two-year-old son but it was enough.

“Niño I’m sorry, I... don’t know if your Pai wants me to take you too. I’m sorry.”

Junior whined a bit louder and made grabby hands at the Argentine despite of what he just told him, and it took Cristiano a second or two to realise the situation that he was in due to his toddler son. He only needed to clear his throat one before he could trust his voice enough to speak. “It’s okay if you take him,” he said, praying that the smile he mustered didn’t come across as too forced and to his utter disbelief, Leo actually smiled back at him as if it was the most usual thing. It wasn’t just a quick twitch of the corners of his mouth like it had happened whenever they had seen each other on the pitch or during award ceremonies, but a _real_ smile.

“Oh, okay then.” Cristiano almost would’ve failed to keep himself from letting out a sound of disappointment when Leo looked away to smile down at Junior instead, “Come on niño, let’s go.”

Junior squealed and ran over to Leo, grabbing two fingers of the same hand that Sasha was holding onto. “Alejo, are you coming too or do you want to go on your own?” The four-year-old, who had, until then, been sitting on the floor between Cristiano’s legs, nodded and jumped up to dash through the living room, “Yeees I’m coming Leo, wait for _meee!_ ” Cristiano watched them all go, feeling as if he had been smacked across the face. Of course Junior liked Leo. All of the kids liked Leo. How could they not? He was so gentle and soft-spoken, always smiling when he was with them and the only times Cristiano had seen him angry so far had been on the pitch, not during an interview or at any other occasion and to him, it was as if the entire picture he had painted of Leo was falling apart, little by little.

Cristiano knew that they were all different people when they were with their respective clubs, of course. Gerard and Sergio have been together for almost a decade and married for the past three years, but they still clashed during each and every single Clásico, would threaten to tear each other’s throats out but would always drive home and to their kids in the same car. Maybe that’s how it could be for them? He groaned, closed his eyes and moved both of his hands over his face in a weary gesture, blaming the stupid song he had heard on the radio earlier even though he knew that no song could’ve brought the feelings back he was sure he had first felt all the way back in 2007 when he had followed Leo’s incredible game against Getafe. He hadn’t ever had alcohol in his life, but he suddenly had the desire for a drink which would be strong enough to silence his mind.

“Are you okay?” Peeking at James through his fingers, Cristiano groaned yet again before he accepted the helping hand which the Colombian offered to him. “Do you need so-so-something for the pain?” Hoping that it would keep the younger man, he answered by ruffling through James’ hair, knowing just how much he hated it. “Cris don’t, I spend twenty minutes on it!”

Cristiano chuckled at the only somewhat stern glare he received, “No I’m okay, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, _Grandpa_.”

He cocked an equally playful eyebrow but decided to do without making a remark on his own when they were able to hear the pitter-patter of small feet and Sasha and Junior came running into the living room, both boys squealing and giggling, “ _Paaai!_ ”

Junior giggled even louder at the way that Cristiano scooped him up and kissed his chubby cheek before he hugged him close for a moment, “Leo ajudou você a lavar as mãos?” It should’ve felt weird, he thought, using Leo’s first name when speaking about him, but he hadn’t even considered to call him Messi around Junior, who apparently already grew to like him.

“Uh-huh, Leo help!”

“Isso é bom, docinho.” He combed a hand through Junior’s curls, “Está com fome?” His son nodded and slipped two of his tiny fingers into his mouth as if to prove the point and with James carrying Sasha, the two Blancos made their way to the then perfectly set table in the adjoined dining area, which offered more than enough space for all of them, including four high chairs for the children that are already able to sit on their own.

“Did you talk to Leo yet?”

Cristiano, who had just fastened the safety belt around Junior’s waist, looked up at his close friend and teammate in confusion, “What?”

“Did you talk to him yet or not,” James repeated, huffing a laugh. “It’s just that-that dinner can get really a-a-awkward if you two didn’t at least say hello.”

Cristiano felt a blush rising into his face when he realised that he actually _had not_ said hello to the Argentine, but nodded nonetheless as he told himself that the short conversation they had a short while ago counted as one. He didn’t get to answer verbally, as Leo came back with Samuel and Alejandro, the older one of the boys babbling all about how excited he was to open his presents later. “I know,” Leo laughed, “I’m excited too niño, and I know that your Papás are too.” The younger man didn’t look at Cristiano as he walked up to James to give the one-year-old over to his father so that James could put him into his high chair as well, and Samuel let out quite the adorable squeal when James strapped him into the chair.

The Colombian insisted that they wouldn’t need his help in the kitchen, and so Cristiano was left alone with the kids after James and Leo had left again. It gave him a chance to collect his thoughts and remind himself that he must be careful of what he would say or do as an argument was the last thing he wanted. For himself, his friends and the children, of course. He felt a bit bad when he was able to do nothing more than sit by and watch how the others brought over the dinner they had all cooked together over the course of two days. The dishes ranged from Andalusian-style lamb and potatoes, _Rostit de Nadal_ and _Bacalhau com todos_ to _Ajiaco_ and more tapas than Cristiano could’ve kept a count on, all in all more than enough for all ten of them and, like every year, with little reminders of the childhood they had in their respective home countries.

Later on, he’d know that his friends had all worked together and deliberately sat down at the table in a way that left only on chair free - the one between Cristiano and Gerard and since Leo was the last one to join them at the table, as he went to get Thiago’s stroller from the living room, it was unmistakable who the chair was for. If Cristiano would’ve looked at the younger man, he would’ve seen how Leo actually blushed and hesitated for a moment before he parked the stroller and sat down beside him.

“Do you need more space?”

Leo’s soft-spoken question caught him a tad off guard. He turned his head to look at the younger man to his left, “Hm?”

“For your knee, Cristiano. Do you need more space?”

The way that Leo’s accent caught on the R in his name made Cristiano want to smile, and the corners of his mouth did pull up into a smile before he knew it, “No it’s okay, my knee is fine.”

“Papa I’m _sooo_ _huuungryyy_ ,” Alejandro whined while Sergio was making his way around the table to fill the adults’ glasses, instead of Cristiano’s, with red wine.

“I know baby, we all are but you just need to wait for a minute longer, okay? Then you can eat as much as you want.” The Spaniard stopped behind Cristiano to pour him a glass of lime water before he moved back around the table and sat down at his own seat, raising his wine glass, “To a very merry Christmas 2020, Geri and I are _very_ happy that you all were able to make it here and gift us with your presence.” Gerard snorted into his glass of wine, and Sergio stopped his short speech to kiss his husband’s cheek. “Anyway,” he drawled out, “I could go on and on about how important each and every one of you is to me but I’m sure that the kids would be crying from hunger by then so... Merry Christmas to you all!”

“Merry Christmas,” Cristiano and the others gave back more or less in unison. It took no more than a few moments before the plates for the kids were being prepared and none of the adults considered to pack their own plate before all of the children had a plate on the plastic tables of their high chairs. The smile on Cristiano’s face was a proud one when Junior insisted to hold the small children’s fork on his own and even slapped Cristiano’s hand away when his father tried to help him with getting a piece of chicken onto it.

“No,” the two-year-old giggled, eventually managing to get said piece of chicken into his mouth at the third try.

“You can eat on your own, meu amor, but your plate needs to be empty if you want to have any sweets later.” His friends knew was a rather empty thread, of course. He wouldn’t ever deny his son the chance to have a few treats during Christmas time just like he himself didn’t watch his diet as closely as he’d usually do it. At his playful thread, Junior merely giggled and set out to get a bit of mashed potato onto his fork next.

Once they had all begun to eat, it also didn’t take long for a conversation to form between them. It ranged through all possible topics; from their seasons with the club and the progress that their children made to the plans and goals they had for the next year. Sergio rambled on about the farm he wanted to buy after he had put it off for years and that Gerard and him were aiming for a third child, Neymar and James revealed a few details of their wedding that would take place in February and Cristiano hinted at a few CR7 projects he had coming and of which he was very proud. He kept quiet about his aspirations to win the next year’s Ballon d’Or after Leo had won his _seventh_ one just last week, simply because it felt wrong with Leo sitting there beside him and it was a rather selfish goal compared to what his friends had planned. His friends and _Leo_ , who wanted to start a new charity for orphaned children and maybe find a new house to live in then that he was a single parent.

“I hope that you don’t mind me asking but... did you hear _anything_ from Luis since he left?” At Sergio’s almost hesitant question, the laughter at the table died down and the room fell rather quiet, except for the classical music that was still playing and the sounds that the children made while they ate.

Leo turned around in his chair to throw a quick look at the stroller and his sleeping son behind him, an action that almost seemed instinctively, and he drew in a deep breath before he answered, “No, nothing.” Cristiano watched, with an inexplicably heavy heart, how the younger man took a restorative sip from his wine. “Because Thiago is biologically mine and... Luis didn’t sign the adoption papers before he left us, there aren’t any problems.” The _but_ was let unsaid, though seemed to hung heavy above their heads and so Leo continued. At the way that his voice dropped, Cristiano’s heart did the same. “He didn’t even send him a Christmas present. Or at least a card. I know that Thiago would be too young to remember it later but...” He was able to see Leo swallow hard, “It’s like he never wanted either of us,” and knew that he didn’t just imagine the growl Gerard let out.

“I swear to all that’s holy, if he dares to come close to you or Thiago again...”

“We’ll make sure that his career and life will be over,” Neymar finished the sentence which Gerard had started. “A little,” he made an abrupt steering gesture, so as if he was driving and suddenly trying not to hit something, “and the problem would be solved once and for all.”

Leo laughed. He laughed, and it was as soft and gentle as it had been earlier despite the topic they were on and Cristiano wondered whether he had ever heard him laugh like that on every other day except today. He probably had, but the fact that he felt like he was really meeting him for the first time made it impossibly hard for him to think of him as Messi instead of _Leo_ as they were sitting there side by side at the dining table.

“Da! ‘Eo da!”

“What is it, niño?”

“Da!” Cristiano blinked hard a couple of times and picked up his glass even though he wasn’t thirsty, and laughter could be heard when Junior leaned over as far as he could where he was strapped into his high chair and held his fork out as if he wanted Leo to take it and the piece of carrot that was impaled on the plastic cutlery. The laughter from the others grew louder when Junior pulled his hand back at Cristiano’s attempt to take the fork. “No Pai, no! ‘Eo! ‘Eo da, da!”

“But niño you heard what your Pai said, you need to eat or I can’t give you any of the cookies I made,” Leo tried to appease the toddler, but he stood up nonetheless and took the few steps until he stood beside Junior’s high chair. Cristiano realised that he only did that so he wouldn’t have to lean over him to be in the reach of Junior’s tiny hand, and he contemplated to tell the younger man that he would’ve been okay with him doing that, but when he turned his head to see Junior smiling at Leo who picked the piece of carrot off the fork and offered it back to the two-year-old with an equally big smile, his words got stuck right in his throat. _He was in love with him_.

It was a realisation that hit him like a truck and even though he knew that he was openly staring by then, he couldn’t help himself because it suddenly all made sense. Why it alway made him so angry whenever Leo wouldn’t share more than an ounce of attention to him, why he always had the inexplicable urge to stop Leo and Neymar whenever they would jump over each other for their goal celebration. But most importantly, it explained why it had ruined his mood when Luis and Leo had made their relationship public exactly a year ago and why the initial relief he had felt about the end of their relationship hadn’t lasted long and instead had soon be replaced by something more akin to pity. _He was in love with him, God he must’ve been in love with him for years on end_. Leo sat back down beside him after he had placed a small peck atop Junior’s head, resuming eating as if nothing had happened and when Cristiano noticed Sergio staring at him from the other end of the table, he knew that he’d have to talk about it with his best friend whether he liked it or not.

༻✦༺

Cristiano was terribly tense for the rest of the time he sat at the dining table and even though he tried this very best to hide it, he knew that especially Sergio wouldn’t be so quick to let him off the hock as easily as he wished he could. There was no use in denying that he was downright hyperaware of Leo’s presence beside him, of the faint pomegranate smell that seemed to surround the younger man and of which Cristiano was sure it came from the shampoo he used. It wasn’t by any means a strong smell, but it was so sweet that the way it perfectly matched Leo could’ve been ridiculous it if wouldn’t have made him want to bury his face in Leo’s hair and for what could’ve been the dozenth time in the course of that evening, the Portuguese was forced to realise how stupid all of this was in his eyes.

Because really, what chance was there that this wouldn’t just cause a lot of drama in their circle of friends and heartache for him if he would be bold enough to talk to Leo about what he was feeling for him? He tried to tell himself that he’d rather not know whether Leo would be interested in trying... _something_ with him at all than to be told that he wouldn’t, but his tries were in vain. Cristiano had carried his feelings around for too long and even if he hadn’t gotten around to realise it prior to this day, he neither could nor wanted to carry the load of them around with him for much longer.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t really notice how Neymar stood up from his seat and sneaked out of the dining room, as they had all agreed earlier that he would play Santa and put all of the presents underneath the Christmas tree, and so Cristiano blinked in confusion when Sergio asked him whether he would be up to help him with the dishes while Gerard, James and Leo would take the kids upstairs to change them into their pyjamas. He opened his mouth to retort something along the lines that he didn’t know who’d take Junior, but the look that his best friend told him that any arguing would’ve been fruitless and so he turned to look at Gerard, who nodded as if he had managed to read the question on his mind, before he stood, stroking through Junior’s curls once as he did so. The stack of plates which he ended up carrying at least gave him something to concentrate on, he decided, having set out to follow Sergio to the nearby kitchen.

“So, what was that all about back there?”

Cristiano only answered to the Spaniard’s question after he had put the plates down onto the countertop beside the sink. “What was what about back there,” he retorted so as if he didn’t already know just what Sergio had hinted at, hoping that he could buy enough time until someone would join them in the kitchen and the conversation would be over with before it could even properly begin. In that moment, he could’ve sworn that he had felt Sergio’s glare burning into his back.

“ _Seriously_ , Cristiano? Let me ask you one thing, do you really think that I’m _that_ stupid?” That his best friend slipped a bit into his captain voice didn’t help to ease the way Cristiano’s heart was palpitating, “I have eyes, you know.”

“Oh really?”

There wasn’t an immediate response to his humourless remark and his heart positively skipped a beat when he, out of the corner of his eyes, watched how Sergio walked over to the kitchen door and closed it, “You know what I mean, Cris. Don’t play stupid with me.”

It was his turn to stay quiet for a moment, and he begun to rinse the first batch of plates as if to play over the fact that he yet had to answer. “But it’s pretty stupid,” he eventually said, deliberately not looking at his best friend, who was watching his every move. He knew that Sergio didn’t actually have any bad intentions with what he was doing, of course, and if he himself wouldn’t have been so overwhelmed and confused by what was happening to him, he even would’ve appreciated the effort. “Don’t try to tell me otherwise, Ser. We talked like... twice today, that’s it. We’re not...” Cristiano hung his head in defeat and resumed to rinse the dishes just because it gave him something to do, but it failed to play over the fact that he felt like he was hit with the entire force of the years he had wasted pretending and suppressing what no longer could be denied or suppressed over and over again.

Sergio moved closed to him and put a hand into the space between his shoulder blades, keeping it there as a compassionate gesture. “I mean I don’t want to speak on Leo’s behalf, obviously,” the short pause he made caused Cristiano’s heart to drop, “but you know that the way he’d acting around you isn’t how he is around people that really doesn’t like.”

Cristiano was sure that it it wouldn’t have been Christmas and he wouldn’t have been overcome by such a mix of emotions he never would’ve spoken in the way that he ended up doing. “He’s so good with the kids,” he said, his voice having gained a soft undertone. “And look at Junior, he really likes him too, he’s just,” he made a pause to try to collect his thoughts and get his racing heart under control, “so _cute_ , Ser.”

The Spaniard smiled and patted his back. “You should let him know how you feel about him, trust me.” Cristiano quickly shook his head, grabbing a new plate from the stack of dirty ones to his right, “I don’t think it’s a good idea, he’ll probably think that I’m saying it to mess around with him or something.” “Oh but it’s Christmas!” Serigo sounded completely serious in his argumentation, “I actually do believe in the Christmas spirit. And it would really be a great story to include in your wedding speech, wouldn’t it? You know, how the Christmas spirit helped you two to stop messing around and find each other like you should’ve done it years ago if you ask me.”

Cristiano hated how he was immediately see himself with Leo, with Junior, Thiago and a few more kids... The image in front of his inner eye made him want to cry, because he hadn’t ever met anyone who he had seen himself building a family with. It was the reason why he had decided to have Junior on his own, that he hadn’t wanted to wait for someone who’d be willing to have a family with him to come his way, but suddenly there was Leo and it all fell into place. He didn’t understand how he had managed to stay deaf and blind for such a long time only for it to break out so fast. _Years_. _They lost years_.

“Trust me with this one,” Sergio went on when no answer came from Cristiano, leaving his side to stack the rinsed plates into the dishwasher, “because if you two really hated each other so much, you wouldn’t have ended up here.”

Without neither wanting nor realising it, Cristiano and Sergio ended up taking longer in the kitchen than they had been expected to so by the time that they did join the others in the living room, the children had already been changed and the presents had been stacked under and around the Christmas tree. Gerard, Leo, James and Neymar had apparently decided to sit on the floor with their kids while they would wait for the last two who were missing and Cristiano didn’t quite manage to focus his gaze on something other than Leo, who had little Thiago in his lap and Junior and Sasha on each side of him. The two two-year-olds were pointing their little index fingers at the four-month-old, so as if they had questions to ask they yet weren’t able to actually voice out, and Leo kept his left arm securely wrapped around his son while he first guided Sasha’s, then Junior’s small hand so that they could touch Thiago’s cheek.

“Yes niño,” the Argentine whispered after he had taken a hold of Junior’s hand. “You’re so gentle, just like this.” Junior’s eyes were wide and kept looking back and forth between Leo’s face and the young child in Leo’s lap, eventually moving his hand on his own to stroke the top of Thiago’s head. Cristiano was sure that his heart was ready to give out at any given moment. “Good boy,” Leo whispered, smiling at the two-year-old and stroking his chubby cheek in response and Cristiano hated himself for not having taken his phone out of Junior’s diaper bag, because he would’ve loved to film the scene or at least take a few photos of it.

Thiago giggled when Junior’s fingers tickled the top of his head and the four-month-old lost his pacifier as he tried to catch Junior’s arm, which in return made the toddler giggle and clap his hands together. Leo only really seemed to notice Cristiano and looked over at him when Junior squealed and pointed at him, “Pai!” Once again snatching a pillow from the couch, the Portuguese moved to sit down beside Gerard. He would’ve liked to sit down next to Leo, who looked so at peace with three children around him, but didn’t trust himself enough to not just confess his love right there on the spot.

His inital relief about having claimed a place between Gerard and James, however, was short-lived because he couldn’t have been sitting for more than half a minute before the Catalan announced that Neymar and him would go and get the cookies. The gap between Cristiano and Leo that Gerard left behind between them when he stood up happened to be too big for it to not be a bit conspicuous, and Cristiano’s body moved on its own accord before could’ve wasted a second thought about whether he should close the gap or not. He halfheartedly expected, dreaded that Leo could try to put more space between them in an instant, but the younger man merely gave a small, endearingly shy smile to him before he looked back down at Thiago.

“Paaai!” Junior, then dressed in the adorable set of Christmas pyjamas Dolores had bought for him, giggled and clambered to get into his father’s lap. “Pai, da!” Cristiano hugged him close when Junior pointed at the presents which were almost perfectly accentuated by the colourful, blinking fairly lights, “Pwesent!”

He hummed, hugging his squirming toddler son and pressing a kiss into his wild mess of curls, “Yeah meu amor, presents,” smiling at the excited squeal Junior let out. No one really spoke as they sat on the floor of the living room and waited for Gerard and Neymar to come back, just gazing at the blinking lights, and Cristiano felt a hot flush rolling through him from head to toes when he was sure to have caught Leo looking at him, though when he turned his head so see if he hadn’t just imagined it, Leo was already paying his undevided attention to Thiago and Sasha again.

Within a few moments, Gerard and Neymar had come back from and walked back to the kitchen a few times, handing out a few cookie plates and hot chocolate in sippy cups for every kid except little Thiago. Cristiano had always liked Christmas. He loved the atmosphere the advent season brought along, that he would have time to be close to the people who were most important to him and could allow himself to indulge a bit, but ever since the circle of his friends had grown closer and especially since he had Junior, what was most important to him was the children’s joy when they would get to open up their presents. Even though they all had the money for it, they had since made somewhat of a pact that they wouldn’t spoil their kids too much. With materialistic things, that was. None of them wanted their children to end up spoiled, as the most of them came from families that didn’t have much and Cristiano himself knew that he’d feel horrible if Junior wouldn’t grow up to appreciate what he had.

During his childhood, Cristiano had been lucky if there had been a holiday when his father hadn’t gotten drunk and he hadn’t needed to fall asleep to the sound of his parents arguing. Hugo had always put his hands over Cristiano’s ears to protect his younger brother, but it had always been in vain. Junior was just as delighted about his presents as Alejandro, Sasha and Samuel were, and even little Thiago seemed fascinated by the rattle toy Leo had unwrapped for him.

The adults shared a laugh when the last boy that got oppened happened to be filled with presents for every one of Gerard’s and Sergio’s five dogs. “I bought them in a real bakery for dogs,” Sergio said, giving each dog one of the large treats that were shaped like Christmas trees. “Everyone deserves to get a bit spoilt on Christmas. Isn’t that right? Yes _you all_ deserve to get some treats!” The Yorkshire terrier yapped, as if in agreement, and ran off to join the German Shepherds after Sergio had given it a treat as well.

When Cristiano first felt a tiny hand patting his forearm, he didn’t pay much attention it and wrote it off as Junior’s, who was still sitting in his lap and flipping through a picture book, even though he noticed that it lacked the strength of a two-year-old. It thus took a moment before he looked down to see what the repetative patting was about and realised that it wasn’t his son’s, but Thiago’s hand, a gesture so simple and yet more than enough to make him smile. “Hey little man,” Cristiano whispered, gently putting a finger into Thiago’s small palm so that he could hold onto it instead of his shirt. His smile widened even more when the four-month-old’s tiny fingers closed around his index finger, it felt like just yesterday that Junior had been that young. “How are you doing, hm? Enjoying your first Christmas with us?” Thiago gurgled and showed off the single tooth he had, tugging at the finger he was holding in a surprisingly unyielding hold. “Do you like your presents, nino?”

Leo’s son squeaked and shook the rattle he held in his other hand, obviously amused by the conversation Cristiano was trying to engage him in. Cristiano knew that Leo was watching him just like any father would be watching the person playing with their child, and even in the relatively dim light of the living room he was able to make out the blush that was spread out over the younger man’s face. His mind wandered off to what Sergio had told him, and he moved his thumb over the back of Thiago’s hand until the four-month-old let go of his finger and the moment between him, Thiago and Leo came to an end.

༻✦༺

Other than Cristiano and Gerard had feared, the children didn’t end up plasting much longer than their usual bedtime. Junior fell asleep in his father’s lap without letting go of his picture book and Mr. Teddy, Sasha was lulled into Morpheus’ arms by Gerard gently rocking him, Samuel had only mewled for a short few minutes before James managed to get him to fall asleep and Alejandro actually fell asleep on the carpet, right where he had been keeping an eye on his newest Lego set. It was on Sergio to pick his four-year-old son up to carry him upstairs, as the boy was fully out of it and didn’t wake up when Sergio made a careful attempt to get him to perk up a bit. Gerard had put up travel beds for Junior and Samuel in Sasha’s nursery and the adults, except for Leo, who had stayed downstairs with Thiago, didn’t manage to tear themselves away from the sight of their sons, fast asleep.

“Well that’s certainly not what I expected to happen,” Sergio admitted when they were all in the living room again a few minutes later. “I’m surprised that Alejo didn’t try harder,” Gerard snorted, allowing himself to be pulled into a kiss by his husband. “I mean he does come after his father at the end of the day.”

Neymar faked a coughing fit and muttered something about _Alejo lacking a serious amount of Ser’s crackhead energy_ , deliberately not low enough that Gerard and Sergio couldn’t have heard it, but instead of getting mad about the comment, Sergio looked rather proud.

“Let’s talk about this in a few years, okay Ney? I’ll teach him my way, you just wait and see.”

“God beware...” The Spaniard glared at his husband, but Gerard simply ignored it and crossed the room to sit down beside Leo, who had since went from sitting on the floor to claiming a seat on the couch. Thiago giggled around his pacifier, making grabby hands at his godfather and Gerard caught one of his hands, blowing raspberries against its back. “Oh you’re so cute, nadó,” he said, “but your Papá needs to come with me so that we can finally watch Harry Potter, okay? I hope you won’t be mad-”

“I’ll take him,” Sergio interjected. He made grabby hands at Thiago in return, winking at Leo as he did so. “Give the cute little bean to me and go and get changed or whatever, we’ll manage on our own.”

Gerard let out a drawled-out sigh, “ _Ser_ ,” and Cristiano almost would’ve reached out and touched the small of Leo’s back when Gerard more or less dragged Leo along with him and out of the living room, Neymar and James following them as if they had their own routine to go through. Cristiano watched them and there wouldn’t have been a use in denying that his heart somersaulted when Leo’s gaze met his while the younger man was dragged up the stairs.

“Don’t tell Alejo or Sasha or Geri but you’re the _cutest_ , niño! Look at you, you’re such a precious baby!” He turned around just in time to see Sergio raising Thiago into the air above his head, making the four-month-old giggle quite loudly, but Cristiano somehow knew that Leo would have a heart attack if he’d be there to see it. “Wanna help me get the TV ready, hm? You wanna do that, niño? But I don’t think that your Papá’s going to let me watch Harry Potter with you, I’m sorry.” The Spaniard kissed one of Thiago’s chubby cheeks as he walked over to the TV stand. He sighed and turned around to look at Cristiano, “Could you take him? I’m sure that I put the DVDs out earlier but they’re not here so I need to look for them.”

“Aren’t the movies on Netflix?”

Ser snorted, “They are. When I asked Geri the same, he gave me an entire lecture about how only the DVDs have those nostalgic vibes so no, sadly we _can’t_ just watch them on Netflix. Take him?”

Cristiano knew that his best friend wouldn’t have accepted any protest anyway, so he nodded and moved closer and allowed Leo’s son to be given to him. Thiago didn’t whimper like he expected him too, instead cooed and even nestled against Cristiano’s chest while the Portuguese looked down at him in disbelief. “At least we know that his son already likes you,” Sergio chirped, but neither the way he said it or the smile he gave at him over his shoulder was meant to be teasing. Cristiano was rather glad when Ser’s head snapped back around and the topic was dropped, because he didn’t know what he possibly could’ve answered to that and he walked over to the couch to sit down on it, carefully changing the hold he had on the four-month-old so that he ended up cradled with his head in the crook of Cristiano’s arm. Thiago’s wide, brown eyes were fixed on him and the pacifier bobbed slightly where it was firmly stuck between his lips. It was a sight that made it impossible for Cristiano to not break out into a wide smile.

“Ser, did you warm up the punch ye- _oh my God_ , how cute!”

He felt himself growing a bit flustered and he needed to his throat before he could muster the strength to look at Gerard, who had since pulled his phone out and was taking photos of Thiago and him, and his heart jumped up into his throat at the way that Leo was watching from where he stood almost hidden behind the Catalan. Leo’s face was just as pink as Cristiano was certain his own happened to be and it would only be at a later point that he would hear about how Gerard and Neymar didn’t just take Leo upstairs to get changed. He knew that he was staring, but he couldn’t possibly have looked away. Leo had switched his dress shirt and jeans for a hoodie which was at least two sizes too big for him and a pair of sweatpants and he looked so cute that Cristiano could’ve drawn him right into his arms and onto his lap. A crazy thought, but it was what he wanted.

“Stop teasing him,” Sergio interrupted, both Cristiano’s thoughts and whatever it was that Gerard had been about to say. “I’ll go and and get the punch, baby.”

“Thank you,” Gerard replied overly sweetly, allowing Sergio to kiss him.

Cristiano firmly kept his eyes fixed on Thiago, whose eyelids had become a lot more heavy over the course of the past few minutes and having Leo’s son falling asleep in his arms probably shouldn’t have made him as happy as it did. “You’re very good with kids.” If there wouldn’t have been his friends with him to witness it, he wouldn’t have believed that those words had really come from Leo. _Leo_ , who, in Cristiano’s eyes, was the epitome of good with kids.

He cleared his throat, “I’m not that good, he’s, uhm, he’s probably just very tired.” The younger man didn’t reply to his stammered answer, only leaned down to take his sleeping son from Cristiano’s arms and kissed Thiago’s forehead before he lay him against his shoulder and carried him over to the Maxi Cosi stroller. “Don’t you want to put him down upstairs?”

“No,” Leo whispered, only just so making it able for Cristiano to hear him. “He’ll be due for another bottle in about an hour and I don’t want him to wake Sasha and the others up.”

If it, once again, wouldn’t have been for their friends, he would’ve continued to watch Leo tend to his young son a bit longer, but with James, Neymar and Gerard getting all into comfortable positions on the couch, Cristiano forced himself to turn back around even if the TV happened to be the last thing he wanted to watch in that moment. “Here’s what we all waited for,” Sergio announced with a playful tone. He was balancing a tray with six steaming cups and stopped by the couch so that they all would be able to take a mug without having to get up. “Nonono baby not that one,” he said when Gerard reached out to take his Manchester United mug, “it’s virgin punch for our favourite virgin.”

His friends giggled at the comment that Cristiano didn’t even bother to reply to and Leo too was hiding a smile behind his hand as he sat down as well - right beside him, even though there was more than enough space beside Neymar at the other end of the couch. “Thank you,” the Argentine said in that soft voice of his, accepting the mug Sergio handed him and while the Spaniard worked to get the DVD player running, Gerard handed out a stack of blankets.

There were three of them, one for each couple and Cristiano swallowed hard when he found himself holding the blanket that was obviously meant for both Leo and him. As if it could give him an answer to his predicament, he turned to look at Leo. He instantly wished that he would’ve prepared himself because he was hit by how endearing the younger man was, with the long sleeves of his oversized hoodie pulled over his hands which were cupped around the mug. _Fuck_. Cristiano felt his heart speeding up, and he leaned over to put the United mug down onto the coffee table and unfold the blanket with only slightly unsteady hands. Pressing his lips together to steady himself, he draped the blanket over his own as well as Leo’s lap, making sure that he actually touching the other.

“Oh.” He was rewarded with a small smile from the younger man, who pulled the blanket up a bit higher so that he was properly covered, “Thank you, Cristiano.”

 _You’re welcome_ , he wanted to reply, but nothing actually left his mouth. _I love you_ , he wanted to say, _I know it’s pretty crazy and I can’t really believe it either but I’m really really sure that I’ve been in love with you for years_ , but he kept quiet, in that moment as well as for the major part of the following hour. He tried to concentrate on the movie and ignore the fact that Leo was looking so huggable right there beside him. It didn’t work as much as he hoped it would, and it worked even less whenever their thighs would touch out of what only could’ve been coincidence. The touch wouldn’t ever last for more than a second, though would send a jolt through Cristiano’s body every time.

༻✦༺

Sergio paused the movie at the soft mewling sound they all were suddenly able to make out from behind them and Leo was on his feet in a second, hurrying to the kitchen to get the bottle he had prepared earlier out of the bottle warmer and Thiago out of the stroller. “I know you’re hungy mi amor, I know... let Papá just sit down and then you can eat, yeah? Shhh, don’t cry,” Leo whispered, sitting back down onto the couch and cradling his son in the perfect position for feeding. Thiago latched onto the bottle the very second that Leo brought it to his mouth and Cristiano was enamoured and practically enrupted by the sight, knowing that he couldn’t ever grow tired of it even if he’d get to see it every day. The Argentine made a small, disapproving sound and pulled the silicon nipple out of Thiago’s mouth again. “Niño there’s no reason for you to hurry so much, no one will take your milk away. You’ll only get a tummy ache and Papá doesn’t want you to go through that again.”

“You should try to sit him up,” Cristiano said, moving to sit a bit closer to Leo without really noticing himself doing so. “It worked with Junior, the milk just flows more slowly if they’re in a near-sitting position.”

Leo blushed quite noticeably, though Cristiano thought to have caught how the younger man had begun to blush before he had even continued speaking, “Can-Can you show me...?”

 _God yes, of course._ He scooted forwards until he was sitting close enough for their thighs to be pressed against each other and he reached out with both hands, gently taking Thiago underneath the armpits to sit him up a bit. “Like this,” he said, making sure that he was using a soft tone and he didn’t pull his hands away without stroking both of Thiago’s chubby cheeks. The four-month-old was looking at him with wide eyes and when Leo gave him the bottle that time, he was no longer gulping down the warm milk.

“Thank you.” Just like his son’s, Leo’s eyes stayed on him for just a moment longer and Cristiano could’ve gotten lost in them. 

_Hell, he was already lost beyond hope_. He cleared his throat, “Oh it’s okay, it took me quite a while to figure it out with Junior.”

There was a short pause, but it was comfortable one. Cristiano didn’t even feel bothered by the way that their friends were looking at them. “Cristiano?”

“Yes?”

Leo smiled at him, “I think that you’re a good father, you know. Junior is a very cute kid.”

It would’ve been a blatant lie to deny that Cristiano’s heart somersaulted and refused to calm down for quite a few seconds, just as it would’ve been a lie if he would’ve claimed that it, to his ears, didn’t sounded like a confession of more than just admiration for his parenting skills. He continued to watch Leo feed his son, watched how Leo gazed down at the small child with so much unmasked love that it touched _him_ and how Thiago looked up at his father through heavy eyelids in return while one of his tiny hands clinged onto the nearest one of Leo’s fingers. Cristiano almost mourned over the end of the moment when the Argentine set the empty bottle aside onto the coffee table and stood up to bring Thiago to bed then that the four-month-old had fallen asleep once he had finished his milk.

The tension in the living room became practically palpable when Leo left and Cristiano watched him go, trying to ignore the way that Sergio, Gerard, Neymar and James were all looking at him with their questions clear on their faces. He was glad that none of them tried to talk with him about what was going on between Leo and him because try as he might, he never could’ve come up with an answer that wouldn’t have given him away for good and Cristiano drew in a deep breath, trying to force himself into calming down. His fingers absentmindedly tugged at the velcro fasteners of his knee brace after he had leaned back into the couch in an attempt to look perfectly unbothered by everything that had happened so far while he waited for Leo.

“I’m back,” Leo announced his return, moving a hand through his hair in a gesture that Cristiano had seen on the pitch countless of times as he made his way over to the couch. “You really didn’t have to wait for me-”

“Yes we did,” Gerard and Neymar interrupted their best friend at the same time, and the Catalan gently nudged Sergio’s side to show his husband that he was good to start the movie again.

Cristiano expected Leo to claim his distance from him, but the younger man sat down in the almost exact same spot he had been sitting in while he had given Thiago his bottle; Cristiano also hadn’t allowed himself to hope that Leo would get back unter the blanket they were somewhat forced to share because the Piqué-Ramos household apparently only had three of them, but Leo did that too. The younger man shuddered and pulled the blanket up a bit higher, even though it only ended up bunched up around his waist. “Are you cold?” Leo shook his head in negation to the question Cristiano asked. The shudder that wandered through his body contradicted his own answer, however, and when he pulled the sleeves of his hoodies back over his hands, the restrains which had managed to hold Cristiano back until then tore and he reached out to take Leo’s hand.

He ended up wrapping his whole hand around Leo’s, telling himself that he merely wanted to check whether it was cold and not intertwine their fingers and really hold Leo’s hand. As their hands were hidden underneath the blanket that was spread out over the both of them, it was a short moment that could’ve belonged to just themselves if Leo’s breath wouldn’t have hitched audibly and if the blush on his face wouldn’t have turned a shade darker while Leo kept his gaze firmly fixed on the TV. The other’s hand might’ve been a bit colder than his own and yet Cristiano felt as if it burned him at the first touch. Not that he let go, of course, but when he tried to let go, Leo’s hand turned over and quickly held onto his. He stopped thinking.

Leo’s hand was there in his own, smaller than he had imagined it would feel in comparison to his own and he didn’t take his eyes off Leo as he gave it a squeeze, wordlessly asking if it was really what Leo wanted and his heart beat a jackhammer’s rhythm against his rips when his hand was squeezed in return. He was holding Leo’s hand. _Leo wanted him to hold his hand_. Dropping his eyes to the blanket where their hands were hidden under, Cristiano slowly moved his fingers to slip them between Leo’s. Leo let him do it. He pressed his lips together to keep the smile down that was threatening to split his face into two, eventually looking back towards the TV even though he had long stopped being interested in the plot. Leo’s hand stayed in his, a warm weight that was so new and already so inexplicably familiar and he didn’t think about it before he gently guided their hands out and rested them onto the blanket instead. If there was one place where they wouldn’t have to hide anything, it was with their closest friends.

Cristiano knew that the movie night wouldn’t be over after the first movie and that they would watch at least two more parts of the series, so when the end credits of the first movie rolled up, he simply gave Leo’s hand another gentle squeeze and smiled at the younger man, who was no longer blushing as profusely as he had done it at first. Sergio, however, didn’t just stand up to put the new DVD in. “I think that I’ll go and make some more punch before we... continue to watch the movies,” the Spaniard said a tad bit too loud.

“Oh I’ll come too!”

Gerard jumped up onto his feet, and Neymar did the same, “Yup, me too. Can’t have enough punch on Christmas.”

James allowed Neymar to pull him off the couch, “Me too,” and within a few mere seconds all four of them dashed out of the living room, leaving Cristiano alone with Leo, who was then looking down at his free hand that was fumbling with the hem of the blanket in his lap.

He knew that it was him who’d have to step up and take the leading role, but he was more than fine with it. Leo was way too adorable for Cristiano to not like him all flustered. “Leo,” he said, testing out the name that felt so much _better than Messi_ and he tightened the hold he had on the younger man’s hand when he moved closer to him, centimeter by centimeter, until Leo’s knee was pressed against his thigh. His eyes roamed over Leo’s face, taking in the tiniest of detail they could catch after he had spend years watching him from afar and he smiled when he was finally able to look into those incredibly warm eyes again. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Leo whispered back. He broke eye contact for a moment, apparently needing to gather all the courage that he had before he was able to meet Cristiano’s gaze again and the Portuguese’s mind was empty.

Considering how full his head had been earlier that evening, it was almost comically when Cristiano failed to come up with even the most simple sentence to say. Still he opened his mouth, hoping that a sentence could form itself, but his head mind remained empty so he eventually just brought a hand up, cupped it against Leo’s cheek and placed a kiss onto surprisingly soft lips. Leo’s breath hitched and Cristiano almost would’ve pulled back and apologised for having read the situation wrong, but then the younger man’s lips parted and he found himself kissed back. He let out a laugh into the kiss, simply because Leo tasted just as sweet as he looks, a mixture of the punch and a hint of pomegranate that Cristiano couldn’t tell where it came from. When they parted, Leo’s eyes stayed on him and Cristiano stroked his clean-shaved cheek. He knew that there were a million things the both of them could and maybe should’ve said, but most of those weren’t needed.

“Cristiano...”

“I love you.” _There_ , he thought, _it’s out_. “I know that you might,” he let out a choked laugh, “think I’m being weird but I thought about it a lot today and...”

Leo’s smile widened a bit, “Yeah, me too.”

“You did?”

The Argentine nodded, his eyes moving over hiss face in the same manner that he had done it, “It’s really not what I expected to happen but.. it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

It was Cristiano’s turn to nod. It did make sense. It had always been them in one way or another. He swallowed hard, trying to play over the fact that his heart was speeding up once again, “Can I kiss you again?” Leo’s laugh was a soft one and he only let go of Cristiano’s hand to cup his face and pull him down into a kiss. “Leo...”

“I think that I’ve fallen in love with you too, Cristiano.”

 _That was it._ The younger man let out a small sound of surprise when Cristiano wrapped his arms around him and pulled him to sit on his lap, allowing him to hug him as closely as he only could. “Fuck,” he whispered with a quivering voice, threatened to be overcome by his emotions because Leo almost melted into the touch and against him. “Fuck, Leo...”

Leo’s voice was equally low when he answered, “Yeah,” and he sounded so small that Cristiano just had to hug him a bit tighter.

“Ow!”

“Dammit Ser, I told you to be careful!”

“How is it my fault that I burned myself _accidentally_ , Geri?!” 

Cristiano was able to feel Leo stir in his arms at the commotion that came from the corridor, but the younger man settled as soon as he must’ve understood that he wasn’t about to banish him from his lap and he deliberately pulled Leo into a kiss when he, out of the corner of his eye, saw their friends in the door of the living room. 

“See?” Sergio let out a triumphant laugh, “I told you it would happen.”

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> The title and lyrics were taken from Martin Gallop's "Christmas Wouldn't be Christmas", which I'm listening to on repeat at the moment :-)


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